


Episode Two

by The_Thieving_Magpie



Series: The Game [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:17:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9230555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Thieving_Magpie/pseuds/The_Thieving_Magpie
Summary: The Game is a stylish and mature soap opera based on BBC Sherlock in an alternate version of Earth.As you go along, please remember this is alternate reality, characters and world alike.Sherlock re-imagined.It centers on the City of London, now completely under Jim Moriarty’s control, and a City-State all on its own.A new and dangerous Nation.Sherlock Holmes is his prisoner and lover, and they reside in a very highly fortified penthouse that is more fortress than flat. Sebastian Moran is the angry and jilted would be suitor of Moriarty, and John Watson struggles to rally a Resistance movement to free the City, and his closest friend. Mycroft and Lestrade are held in a secret location, kept alive solely to keep Sherlock under control.There are very strong subjects contained herein, torture, murder, non con, drug use, brutality, suicide, mental issues of all varieties, etc.General Trigger warnings for all these always apply!Extreme Material ~ You Have Been Warned





	

 

The Penthouse.

 

Jim was up.  
  
Not only up, but by the time Sherlock's eyes finally opened, he had done a very great deal of damage. And was in a very shitty mood. "Are you ever going to get up, you lazy son of a bitch?"  Sherlock groaned, and got out of bed, pulling on his robe.

"What time is -"

  
"Time you got your dead arse up."

"What _time_ is it?!"

He spoke sharply, because he had long ago stopped fearing Jim. Now it was about getting through every day, and today - it was going to be about sparing whatever other countries he had decided to wage war on. Little did Sherlock understand what Jim had already done today.

"You cost me a whole day! Because you wouldn't let me up ..."

"Are you going to tell me what time it is?"

"Ten O'Clock."  
  
"What are you doing."

"I'm busy."

"What are you looking at ...  Jim ... what have you done ..."

 Jim was staring out the window. Sherlock cautiously approached, and Jim's evil smile told him something was off, something had gone down already. Damn it, if he had only woken up sooner - he stopped in mid stride as he saw what was out the window. His eyes went wide and horror stricken. The entire landscape on the horizon was one mushroom cloud after another. At least seven, more likely nine or ten, to the distance. He was destroying the rest of the UK. The UK that had refused to capitulate. This wasn't war, this was a nuclear massacre. Sherlock stood like a man in a dream, and stared at the dying nation that had dared to defy James Moriarty. That had dared to say no, to the man that did not take no for an answer at _any_ point.

 Sherlock felt his heart turn to blood and ice, and shattering in a thousand glittering strands of glass. It was far past merely being burned out.

 

 "............................. _you're insane_." 

 

 Jim turned to him and gave him one of his mocking false surprise looks.

  
"You're just getting that _now_?"

 

 

 

Paris

 

Sebastian Moran jerked himself off to a lonely, useless orgasm and marveled at how such release could feel so empty, so dead.

The man he loved was far from him, and not interested. Jim was only interested in Sherlock and had been for a very long time. But the length of time this had gone on didn't change the longing, the hurt, the need. Being in love was a torture he figured he probably deserved, sadly enough. He'd lived a long and ugly life and done many terrible things. Sebastian figured he had some comeuppance headed his way, might as well be heartbreak. And Jim didn't care. Little mad Jim, beautiful and awful all at once. Sebastian could drown in those dark eyes, be lulled into a sweet madness hearing his voice. Lilting somehow, poison dripping with his words, sensuality and savagery oozing from every syllable. Tiger wanted him more than he had ever wanted anything in all his life, and he'd never have him. Never. He knew this, recognized it, and yet still -- dared to dream.  
  
Dream big.

If he could just get hold of Sherlock long enough to kill him, make it look good .. make it look really good. Jim would be devastated, psychotic over it. He'd rage, he'd lose it completely. And Tiger would be there for him. Just as he'd always wanted to be.

Keep him from the abyss.

For now, he'd plant the nukes, do Jim's dirty work, still a hired grunt. Still just his hired hand, his sidekick. It was such shit. One of these days ... 

Task completed, Tiger headed for the plane he needed to catch to get to Berlin. The news of the nuking of the UK was all over, the newscasters were screaming it, shouting it, it shook things up, this was a banner day for the press. They loved this shit. It was, after all, their bread and butter. The USA was promising to send aid, and Tiger laughed at that, getting some looks he didn't want.

"Sorry, just not counting on the Yanks."

He covered it well.

 

 

 

 Kensington - Warehouse.

 

Molly's screaming was something John was pretty sure he could not take one goddamned minute more of.

"Listen up everybody! I know it's a shock, I know you have family out there, so do I - but - listen - we have to stay focused here!" He was in shock, and he knew he was. "Word got through to Sherlock, we warned him - and I'm going to read out his reply."

 

_Don't._

_I'll stop it, I'll take it myself, don't do it._

_Let me handle this._

_Don't want him dead._

_Sorry for that._

 

__SH_

 

John swallowed hard on a dead dry throat and looked to the others. Men and women, every single one of them pale and stunned, fear etched hard on their features now. Fear and sorrow. They didn't even have the strength for hatred at this point. But John Watson did. Now, he wasn't sure just what to think about Sherlock and it was the most troubling thing of all of it. Moriarty didn't come close to this. John was beginning to strongly believe that Sherlock had, indeed, sold them out. And now England burned. England, Scotland, Wales .. only Ireland was left alive. Of course, he'd spare his home country, the little prick. John knew he could not afford to dwell on emotions and knee jerk reactions.  
  


"If we don't stop him, the whole world will follow. It's now by any means necessary. Sherlock .. has .."

He closed his eyes. God, this hurt to say, hurt more to think. "Sherlock has thrown in with Moriarty, it seems."  The roomful of people broke into a loud discord, and John called for quiet again. "I said, it seems. And because it does, we have to take any actions we can now. If we have a chance to level that place  ...we're going to have to take it, and Sherlock can die with the man he chose to protect .. the man who would burn the whole world to _ashes_."

 

 

 

 


End file.
